Between the Lines
by Crimson-chan
Summary: Love between Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger seems nonexistant, but it's this nonexistant love that has been foretold to defeat Voldemort forever... Will Malfoy and Granger fall in love in time to save the world from the Dark Lord once and for all?
1. PROLOGUE prophecies

_Disclaimer: I've never claimed to own anything, so I don't see why I need to make it clear that I _don't_ own Harry Potter or any of the characters from the books._

_Summary_: The prophecies have foretold the love of Pureblood Draco Malfoy and Muggle-born Hermione Granger. However, the Slytherin and Gryffindor can't stand each other and are perfectly content in their loathing of one another. Despite the fact that their destinies seem to be intertwined, love between Malfoy and Granger seems nonexistant, but it is this nonexistant love that has been foretold to defeat Voldemort forever.... Will the Pureblood and Mudblood find love like the prophecies have said, and will they discover it in time to defeat the Dark Lord once and for all? 

A/N: This is a D/Hr get together.... An A/U that takes place in the gang's sixth year. I've yet to read the Order of the Phoenix, so this fic will contain no information about the fifth Harry Potter book. You don't need to worry about spoilers. 

**PROLOGUE.prophecies**

The dimly lit room was vacant except for two men. Though no one else was nearby, they spoke in hushed tones, the brown haired man wearing a look of panic and frustration. The other man appeared perfectly calm. 

"We could always stop him from attending Hogwarts. He'd never find out that he was a wizard unless someone told him, and who else knows?" the brown haired man suggested. 

"I don't think that will work. Remember the prophecies! Voldemort _must_ be allowed to rise!" 

"But _why_, Minister?" the first voice said again. "So some infant will be able to face him and come away with nothing more than a scar?" 

"No," the Minister of Magic said gently. "Not because of the boy. Because of those destined to fall in love! The prophecies have told about this romance for centuries.... Nay, _millenni_a!" 

"So let me get this straight.... We are going to allow what is sure to be the most evil and powerful wizard of all time attend Hogwarts and learn magic _just_ so two people will fall in love?" 

"That's correct. We're not even supposed to know of the prophecies; we are supposed to let everything play out as it should." 

"This is ludicrous!!" the first voice said angrily. "I will _not_ go along with this!" 

The Minister chuckled. "It doesn't matter whether you agree or not. Only I have the power to instruct Dippet to _not_ send Riddle his Hogwarts letter and while I'm not looking forward to the future under Voldemort's power, _it must be so_." 

The first person growled in annoyance. "I will tell everyone! _I will_! I will tell everyone of the dark wizard they are teaching at Hogwarts!" 

The Minister only smiled. "No one will believe you, you know. They'll think you're mad." 

The first person groaned. "But why must we go through such a time of suffering if we don't have to?" 

"I told you -- we're not supposed to know of the prophecies." 

The first man sighed in obvious exasperation. "What exactly do these prophecies say?" he inquired. 

The Minister's eyebrows flew up as he adjusted his robes. "You mean to tell me you don't know?" 

"Should I? You yourself said we shouldn't know." 

The Minister only fixed the other man with a pointed stare before clearing his throat. "The prophecies.... They say that a boy named Tom Riddle will grow to be the most greatly fear wizard of all time -- Lord Voldemort. Many will die by his hand until one day a young infant named Harry Potter faces his wand.... The child will survive somehow and Voldemort will flee, but he will be back. When he returns it will be a Pureblood male and a Muggle-born female from Hogwarts who defeat him." He shrugged nonchalantly. 

"And these two people.... They will be attending Hogwarts at the time?" 

"That's what they say." 

"How is it that this Voldemort is one of the most greatly fear wizards of all, yet an infant defeats him the first time, and two Hogwarts students defeat him the second time?" 

Once again, the Minister shrugged. 

The other man frowned, incredulous. "How do these Hogwarts students defeat him?" 

"Ah, that's not exactly known. Supposedly their love for each other runs so deeply and passionately that Voldemort is unable to destroy them and ends up killing himself. It appears that it is much the same way for Potter. He was loved too greatly to be killed by Voldemort." 

"It sounds like a load of rubbish to me, Minister." 

"Think what you'd like. I must be on my way." The Minister turned to exit the room, leaving the other man alone. 

"Wait! I have one more question!" 

The Minister stopped to look at his partner, his gaze expectant. 

"Does it say the names of the lovers?" 

The Minister nodded, albeit hesitantly. "It does, but I'm not sure it is wise for you to know. Suppose someone else catches drift and decides to try and play match-maker when they are born?" 

"Please?" 

The Minister sighed, giving in. "One, the male, will be from a family a pureblooded wizards. He will be put in Slytherin. The female will be born to two Muggles. She will be put in Gryffindor." 

"Yes, but their _names_?" the man inquired impatiently. 

"I'm getting to it!" the Minister snapped, running a hand through his graying hair. He shot a furtive glance around the room as though to confirm they were alone. Then he sighed. "Fifty-six years from now, Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy will fall in love. The prophecies say it is so." 


	2. ONE accusations

A/N: Thanks for all those who reviewed the prologue. Your reviews really mean a lot! I should probably mention now, however, that all flames will be used to roast the flamers' asses. 

**ONE.accusations**

Hermione Granger faced the brick wall that divided platform nine and three quarters from platform nine and King's Cross Station. She headed towards it at a brisk walk, her pace quickening as she got closer until finally she was sprinting, barely controlling the flimsy cart. From inside his cage, the orange tabby cat Crookshanks let out an annoyed hiss as the trolley almost fell onto its side. Hermione steadied it as she sailed through the barrier. 

A loud crash caused everyone on platform nine and three quarters to turn and look towards the barrier. 

Hermione had collided with Ron Weasley, who had been standing just on the other side of the barrier with Harry Potter. Both Hermione's and Ron's carts had overturned and both teenagers had fallen to the ground. Suitcases were spilled across the ground, though luckily none had opened during the collision. Crookshanks was wailing loudly and thrashing inside his cage (which was no upside-down). Ron's owl, Pigwidgeon, was hooting wildly as his cylinder-like cage began to roll away from the carts. 

A few people laughed as they saw what had happened, most ignored it and returned to what they had previously been doing. 

"I'm sorry! Oh, I'm so sorry!" Hermione apologized hastily as she jumped up and brushed her pants off. She seized Ron's cart and began to right it. 

"It's all right, don't worry," Ron grunted as he, too, picked himself up off the floor. "We were standing too close to the barrier, I guess." 

"Which is why we should move before more people arrive," Harry suggested as he helped Hermione pick up her own trolley. 

Ron and Hermione nodded and wheeled their now empty carts away from the barrier, Harry following suit. Then Hermione lifted her belongings back onto her cart and strapped Crookshanks' cage securely onto the trolley, fearing that the cat's thrashing would knock the cage off. Ron, meanwhile, was chasing after Pigwidgeon's cage as it rolled further and further away. Harry snickered as he heaved a suitcase onto Ron's trolley. 

"How was your summer, Hermione?" Harry inquired as he tied Ron's suitcase down. 

Hermione only shrugged. "All right. I finished my homework the first week of the holidays so I didn't have much to do for the rest of the time." 

Harry stopped his work and looked up at his friend, incredulous. "You finished _all_ of it your _first week_?" 

"Yes. It was easy." At Harry's embarrassed look she paused. "You _did_ finish everything, right?" 

"Um.... Not exactly...." 

"_Harry_! You had two months!" Hermione exclaimed. "When are you planning on finishing it? On the train?" 

"That _was_ the idea," Harry admitted. Then, seeing Hermione's exasperated expression, hastily added, "I don't have that much to finish! I only have a Divination essay. I think I'm going to fake it again." 

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Have you and Ron _ever_ done a legitimate Divination essay?" 

Harry paused, thinking, then shook his head. "Nope." He returned to securing Ron's luggage to the cart. 

The sixteen year old girl sighed, shaking her head. "I'm telling you, you should drop that class. It's all guesswork if you ask me." 

"Exactly!" Ron said, having just returned, "And that's why we _guess_ for all our essays." He grinned cheekily at her as he strapped a crazed Pigwidgeon to his top suitcase. 

Hermione scowled at the redhead, tucking a strand of her own wavy brown hair behind her ear. She motioned towards the scarlet train nearby. "Shall we?" Then she, Harry and Ron pushed their trolleys towards the train that would take them to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for their sixth year. 

. 

"Don't worry too much about the O.W.Ls," Hermione assured Ginny, who was looking quite nervous indeed about her fifth year at Hogwarts. "They're not so hard." 

Ron snorted. "Speak for yourself," he muttered, earning himself a smack to the head from Hermione. 

"Really," Hermione said, turning back to the red-haired female, "if you study they're not that hard. _Ron_ here, however, found it more productive to play exploding snap rather than study for some of the most important exams of his life." 

Ron scowled as she shoved a whole Chocolate Frog into his mouth. "Wu-u," he mumbled, the chocolate in his mouth slurring his speech. 

Ginny crinkled her nose in disgust. "_Swallow_ you food before speaking!" she snapped. 

Scowling again, Ron swallowed the Chocolate Frog almost whole having hardly chewed it at all. "_Yes_, mother," he replied sarcastically, before glancing at the card he had received with the Chocolate Frog. "_Another_ Dumbledore!" he groaned, throwing it across the train car. 

Frowning at her older brother, Ginny Weasley turned her attention back to Hermione. "So they're not that hard? The O.W.Ls, I mean." 

Hermione shook her head, smiling. "The professors prepare you for it, anyway. Don't sweat it. And I can help you a little bit if you want when they set a date." 

Ginny grinned, appeared relieved. "Thanks," she said sincerely, then turned to leave, talking over her shoulder as she did so. "I'm going to go find Colin." 

From the other side of the compartment, Harry groaned, his almost complete Divination essay spread over his lap. "I hope she doesn't bring Colin here," he muttered and Ron laughed. 

"He'll probably want another picture," he said. 

"There's nothing wrong with him wanting Harry's picture," Hermione pointed out. "Harry's a celebrity in the wizarding world, after all." 

Ron glanced at Hermione with mock surprise. "_Really_?" he inquired, his voice full of sarcasm. "I had _no_ idea!" He turned to Harry and asked in a pleading voice, "can I have your autograph?" 

Both Harry and Ron chuckled as Hermione glared at them and sat down in a vacant seat. "Colin's really not so bad," Hermione said. "You shouldn't be so mean to him." 

"We're not mean to him," Harry said. "_He's_ the one who follows me around like a lost dog." 

"He looks up to you, Harry," Hermione said. 

"God knows why, though," said a drawling voice from the train car door and all three compartment occupants turned to look at the speaker. 

"Get lost, Malfoy," Ron snapped. "I would've thought you'd've dropped out of school to become a Death Eater like your father." 

Draco Malfoy's eyes flashed and Hermione cringed while Crabbe and Goyle paled. It was one of the highest insults to openly accuse someone of being a Death Eater, especially since Voldemort had returned. 

A growl emitted from Draco's throat. "How _dare_ you accuse me of being a Death Eater?" His voice was icy but barely audible. 

"Oh _please_," Ron snorted. "Everyone knows your father's a Death Eater. We assumed you'd follow in his footsteps." 

Before Draco could speak further, Hermione gave Ron a hard nudge in the side, causing him to wince and turn to face her. "Would you _shut-up_?" she hissed, and Harry nodded violently from across the car in agreement. 

"Yes, listen to the little Mudblood. You should learn to control your mouth, Weasley. It could get you into trouble." His eyes still flashing, Draco Malfoy left the compartment. 

"What's _wrong_ with you?" Hermione burst out the instant Draco, Crabbe and Goyle had gone. "Don't go shooting your mouth off like that! _Especially_ about Death Eaters and _especially_ during times like these! For all you know, Malfoy might tell his father and next thing you know you could be dead!" 

"She does have a point, Ron," Harry agreed quietly, not wanting to take sides but wanting to enforce the severity of what Ron had said at the same time. 

Ron only scoffed, but he became slightly more alert. 

. 

Draco, Crabbe and Goyle sat together at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall. The Sorting had just concluded and the plates were now heaped with food. To Draco's right sat Pansy Parkinson who was chattering to the blonde excitedly, but Draco had long since tuned her out. He served himself more mashed potatoes and smothered it in gravy before eating. 

"Are you listening to me?" Pansy finally shouted into Draco's ear, grabbing his attention. 

"What?" he snapped, annoyed at her ignorance. 

"I heard that Weasley found out you're a Death Eater," she said coolly as she, too, served herself more potatoes. "What are you going to do now that people know?" 

Draco's head snapped around to face her. "What?" 

Pansy frowned. "What are you going to do now that people know you're a Death Eater?" She said it more loudly this time, catching the attention of a first year Slytherin. The first year looked up in shock, her eyes wide. 

"I'm _not_ a Death Eater!" Draco snapped, speaking loudly enough so the majority of the Slytherin table could hear. 

"Really?" Pansy seemed surprised. "I thought you would be since your father is...." She didn't bother to quiet to tone. 

Draco slammed his fork down onto the table with a bang. "_Shut-up_!!! What's _wrong_ with you!? Haven't you _any_ sense?" He opened his mouth to continue when he realized the whole Great Hall had fallen silent and was now watching him. Seething, Draco followed their example and became quiet. The Hall gradually filled with the normal chatter once more, Draco's outburst forgotten. 

Pansy seemed embarrassed. "I'm sorry," she said quietly. "You should eat," she added, nodding towards the plate Draco had pushed away from him. 

"What does it matter to you?" he snapped. "You obviously didn't care about telling the world I was a Death Eater." 

Pansy said nothing more to him for the remainder of the meal. 


	3. TWO predictions

A/N: I'd like to remind everyone that I have _not_ read The Order of the Phoenix yet and don't know what happens during Harry's fifth year. Because I don't know what happens I can't write about it, so if some information seems incorrect or appears to be missing, you know why. 

Thanks for all the reviews, you guys! They mean so much to me. *huggles* 

**TWO.predictions**

If Harry had thought that his Potions class (which he had had immediately after breakfast) had been long, it was nothing compared to the double Divination he was being forced to sit through. The heavily perfumed room and the tranquil heat was putting Harry to sleep and it was all he could do to keep from dropping off completely. Near the back of the room, Dean Thomas was snoring soundly behind his Divination book and Harry wished he could do the same, but he was too close to Trelawney's desk to want to risk it. 

Professor Trelawney's wispy voice was floating about the room but Harry had long since tuned her out. She was walking between the desks near the front as she spoke, pausing every so often to speak individually to a student and inform them of one grave thing or another. Harry only rolled his eyes as she stopped at his desk. He knew what was coming -- another prediction of his death. Ron had told him on their way to Divination class earlier that if Harry really had died as many times as Trelawney had predicted, he'd be a medical miracle. Harry had to agree. 

"Mr. Potter," Trelawney said quietly. "You are a lucky one. A lucky one indeed. You can fool the fates. I have predicted your death many times, but still you continue to return to class." She smiled slightly. "I must say, though, that it will be a miracle if you live to see the end of your sixth year. You know He Who Must Not Be Named has returned; I have seen that you are his number one target, having eluded him for a second time during your fourth year." 

From beside him, Ron snorted. It wasn't the second time Harry had eluded Voldemort, it was the third, but Ron kept this to himself. 

Trelawney turned to look at Ron, smiling at him sadly. "Weasley.... Ah, your love life this year will be a difficult one...." She shook her said in sympathy, ignoring the blush that was creeping up Ron's face. "You will ask her out sometime in late October, early November, but the relationship will end sometime around New Years as she finds she likes someone else. You will be devastated," Trelawney predicted, "and it will take you some time to get over it though you will act as though you're unaffected. You will, however, go so far as to attempt to make a Love Potion to make her like you once again but, alas, it will not work. But you'll find another by your seventh year." 

By now Ron's ears were flaming and the entire class was giggling and pointing. "I don't like anybody," Ron told the woman standing over his desk but Trelawney only gave him a knowing smile before gliding to the front of the room. 

"This year, we will begin with something called Crossing Over." Several students groaned, knowing what this involved. Some, like Lavender and Parvati, appeared nervous but excited at the same time, while others just stared off into space, not paying attention at all. 

Trelawney mistook the bored expressions on several student's faces for confusion, and she smiled as she began to explain what Crossing Over was. "Crossing Over is when we attempt to contact spirits of those who have passed on. Often times it is relatives or those we were close to." She turned to Harry. "Now, dear, your parents have passed on. Would you like to come here and help me try to contact them?" 

"No," Harry told her shortly. The last thing he wanted was to be teased for trying to contact his long-dead parents in Divination. 

Trelawney smiled in understanding. "Still too painful, dear? That's all right." She turned to Seamus Finnigan. "Your grandmother recently passed away, did she not? Would _you_ like to try to speak with her? Find some closure perhaps?" 

Seamus frowned. "My grandmother didn't die," he told Trelawney. "My dog did." 

. 

"If you're going to fall asleep, Mr. Malfoy," Draco vaguely heard Professor Trelawney say, "at least make an effort to hide it." 

The blonde raised his head slightly and saw the mysterious woman standing nearby. She didn't appear angry as any other teacher would have but rather disappointed as though she couldn't understand why he hadn't made an effort to stay awake. Draco made a point of yawning loudly, causing the Divination professor to frown at him. It was a look that didn't suit the faraway woman. 

"If you're finding it difficult to stay awake during the day," she continued, "perhaps I can speak to Professor Snape about setting an earlier bedtime for you." 

A few people chuckled at this but Draco's hard glare silenced them. He turned to Trelawney. "Perhaps if your lesson was more _interesting_, I wouldn't have a problem staying awake," he countered. 

Trelawney's face changed from disappointed to annoyed in a second and her mouth opened to speak. She stopped short, however, and tilted her head to the side, her annoyed expression transforming into a searching one. Then her eyes widened slightly and she took a step back, bumping into Goyle's desk as she did so. 

"What _is_ that," she whispered, appeared thoroughly confused. 

"What is it? What have you seen?" Pansy Parkinson inquired excitedly from nearby. Her face was flushed with unrestrained excitement. "Is it a _Grim_?" 

"No, dear," Trelawney told her absentmindedly. "I'm not exactly sure what it is.... It's very strange and has a wise and powerful aura about it... almost as though it was predicted long before he was born." She frowned and peered closer. 

Draco rolled his eyes at the idea. "You mean to tell me people were talking about me before I even existed?" 

Trelawney nodded slowly, still searching Draco's eyes. "I am. If, of course, that's really what this means. I can't quite make it out...." 

From the back of the class, Draco heard someone hiss, "_Death Eater_. That's what she's seeing." 

Draco's eyes flashed and his head swiveled around to face the back of the room, scanning each person to see who had spoken. But everyone looked at him with the same expression -- confusion and some slight interest. What was Trelawney seeing? 

The professor suddenly gave a gasp and she swallowed, walking to the front of the class. "Today we will begin with Crossing Over. I'm sure most of you know what that is, but for those who don't--" She was interrupted by Pansy. 

"What did you _see_, Professor?" Pansy asked. "Tell us!" 

Trelawney shook her head. "It is most unusual. Speaking of it might prevent it from occurring. And this _must_ happen." She sighed as her eyes seemed to slip out of focus as though she were daydreaming. The class watched her, each wondering what she was thinking and wondering if she would give in and tell them what vision she had supposedly had. But she only sighed again, blinked and came back to reality, whispering, "Poor Weasley," as she did so. 

The class stared. 

. 

"Trelawney predicted Ron will fall in love this year," Harry told Hermione at lunch, grinning across at the youngest Weasley boy. "Then she said he will lose his love and be devastated." 

Hermione snorted as she turned to face the redhead. His face matched his hair for the second time that day. "Trelawney doesn't know what she's talking about," she said shortly as she buttered some bread. "She's a fraud if you ask me." 

For once, though, Ron agreed only half-heartedly. "Yeah," he said softly. "Right." 

"Ah, cheer up!" Harry told Ron with a grin. "At least we didn't get homework! Trelawney spent the majority of the class trying to find someone willing to speak with dead people." 

Ron snorted, his good mood returning. "She mistook Seamus' dog for his grandmother!" He guffawed at the thought, putting some salad on his plate. 

"I told you she doesn't know what she's talking about," Hermione said. "You should've dropped the class like I did." 

"It's actually an easy class. You just don't like her because she practically said you sucked," Ron taunted. 

"No. That's not it at all," Hermione said. 

Ron raised an eyebrow. "Oh, really? So you're okay with the fact that you're not the best at everything?" He stuffed a whole half of a chicken salad sandwich into his mouth and swallowed it almost immediately after. 

"Of course," Hermione said tightly. "And do you _ever_ chew your food? Suppose it got stuck on its way down because it was still practically whole." 

"I hate chewing," Ron said simply, "and you just quit because you couldn't stand the fact that you might fail the exam because you _suck_." 

Hermione rounded on Ron, her eyes narrowed dangerously. "_Excuse me_?" Her voice was shrill and angry. "_What did you say_?" 

Ron was silent, staring at Hermione almost fearfully, and Harry took the opportunity to change the subject. The last thing he needed was for his two best friends to fight on the first day of school. They fought often enough as it was, anyway. 

"I was thinking, Ron," Harry began, "what do you think about going onto the Quidditch pitch after dinner tonight? Get in a little bit of flying practice before the first team practice next week? I know I could use it after a summer of no flying at all." 

"Sure, sounds good. You're not the only one who needs practice," Ron agreed as he reached across the table for the pitcher of pumpkin juice. He filled his cup almost to the top and drained it in three gulps. Then he and Harry resumed talking, their conversation now focusing on the sport of Quidditch and how they would win the Quidditch Cup again that year. 

Hermione, however, didn't speak or eat for the rest of the meal and spent the remaining time glaring daggers at Ron's back. 


	4. THREE admiration

A/N: I'm sorry that this chapter isn't out as soon as the previous one was. I've gotten into Neopets (www.neopets.com) as of late and have spent most of my online time there. I've also spent less time online due to the fact that I got a lot of reading material for my birthday (book, mangas, etc) and have been engrossed in those. Hopefully this will make up for it. 

Okay, okay. I lied; there will be _some_ OotP spoilers. Mostly things I've heard from other people. None of the things mentioned will spoil the fifth book (well, it had better not, because I haven't read it yet!!). 

***WARNING: Lime-flavoured chapter. Because of this, the rating has been raised to Restricted (R). 

**THREE.admiration**

"S'pose I'm not cut out to be a Beater?" Colin Creevy asked nervously. 

Harry smiled reassuringly. "Don't worry about it; you'll do fine. I've seen you fly before -- a little practice will make you a champion Beater. Now you should go and take a warm-up flight around the pitch before I bring out the bludgers." 

Colin grinned and mounted his Nimbus 2001. It wasn't the newest broom on the market but it was still one of the best. 

Harry smiled as Colin steered with broom with perfection. He and Colin had grown closer the previous year as the eldest Creevy brother had matured dramatically. He no longer begged to take Harry's picture or asked for an autograph every time they passed in the halls; he'd seemed to have outgrown that phase. 

Ron flew over and landed gracefully near Harry. "D'you think he was a wise choice?" Ron inquired, nodding to Colin who was doing loop-the-loops in mid-air. 

Harry nodded. "Yes." His tone left no room for question or complaint. 

"Well, we still only have a team of three," Ron said. "We need another Beater and three Chasers." 

"Two Chasers," Harry corrected. 

"What?" 

Harry pointed across the pitch to a figure standing in scarlet Quidditch robes. Ron's jaw dropped. "_Ginny_?" 

"She's good," Harry said simply. 

"How would you know?" Ron inquired almost skeptically. 

"She asked me if she could join the second day of school so we went out onto the pitch and practiced. I'm surprised she managed to keep it a secret for a whole week." 

"_That's_ why I couldn't find you," Ron said, watching as Ginny ran over. 

"What do you think?" she asked, spinning in a slow circle to model her clothing. 

"It looks my same as my stuff!" Ron exclaimed in mock amazement. "Go figure." 

With a scowl, Ginny made a move to chuck Fred's old Cleansweep Five at Ron, but he mounted his broom quickly and kicked off into the air. Harry chuckled, turning to the only Weasley girl. 

"Ron doesn't think you're any good," he told her as he pulled the red quaffle out of the crate. He looked up at Ron again, smirking, though he continued talking to Ginny. "Why don't you show him what you can do?" 

Ron frowned at Harry but took up his position in front of the posts for he was the Gyffindor Seeker. Taking the quaffle, Ginny swung a leg over her broom and kicked off. "Oh! And tell Creevy to get over here!" Harry called after her. 

With a nod, Ginny made her way to a dizzy Colin Creevy, who was putting up a great effort not to fall off his broom after spending a full three minutes doing three hundred and sixty degree turns on his Nimbus 2001. He somehow managed to make his way over to Harry and land without planting his face in the dirt. He collapsed on the grass the instant his feet touched the ground. 

"Feeling okay?" Harry asked noticing the nauseated look on Colin's face. 

Colin nodded slowly as he swallowed hard, some of the colour already returning to his face. 

"Good. Now, since you're to be our newest Beater, I'm going to teach you _exactly_ what a Beater has to do. For starters, you're going to need to learn how to fly without hanging on because you're going to need to use both hands to swing at the bludgers. But don't worry -- you won't have to do any diving or fancy flying. Just the basics." 

He went on to explain to Colin how violent and uncontrollable the bludgers could be and at the end of his demonstration asked Colin if he was still up to being Beater. Colin nodded, his face set in determination. Harry smiled. Opening the crate he let out a single black bludger and it whizzed up into the air. 

"Go see if you can hit it, but try not to hit Ginny and Ron." 

Without a word Colin mounted his broom and kicked off, gripping the bat tightly in his fist. He was flying rather slowly compared to the pace he had previously set, but Harry had to commend him on practicing without holding on. 

A curse from Ron up above told Harry that Ginny had gotten a goal past him. Picking up his Firebolt from where it lay on the ground behind him, he joined them in the sky. Ginny aimed for the left goal and Ron practically jumped off his broom to catch the quaffle. Harry laughed as Ron struggled to right himself. 

"All right, she's good," Ron admitted grudgingly. "But we're still two Chasers and a Beater short." 

"I was considering Dean Thomas for another Chaser and Madame Hooch told me about this girl named Natalie McDonald. Hooch said she'd probably make a good Beater." 

"I know McDonald," Ginny said. "She _would_ make a good Beater. She wouldn't be afraid to go after it." 

Harry nodded. "I'll ask both of them to join tomorrow's practice if they're interested. But we still need one more person." 

A bludger suddenly flew by Ginny's head and a sheepish Colin came up beside her. He mumbled an apology, one that Ginny dismissed lightheartedly. 

"Hey, Colin, d'you know of any good flyers?" Ron asked. 

Colin was silent for a few moments as he thought. "There's the McDonald girl...." he said slowly. "I think she's pretty good." 

Harry grinned. "She's already considered. Anyway, practice again tomorrow immediately after dinner. Pack up." That said, Harry, Colin and the only two remaining Weasleys at Hogwarts headed towards the ground. 

. 

"You're back," Hermione noted as Harry and Ron walked over. She was standing in front of the fire, the heat it radiated drying her hair. 

"How very observant of you, Hermione," Ron replied mockingly, earning himself a hard glare from the bushy-haired girl. 

Hermione turned her attention to the Gryffindor Quidditch captain. "How was practice?" 

"Pretty good," Harry replied. "I'm going to ask Dean Thomas and Natalie McDonald if they're interested in trying-out." 

Hermione smiled and nodded. "Sounds good." She turned back to Ron. "Did you manage to improve any over the summer?" she inquired coolly. 

"Shut-up! At least I _made_ the bloody team!" Ron snarled. 

"_That_ was--" Hermione was cut short as Lavender Brown shoved her aside. 

"Hi, Ron," Lavender said in an almost cooing voice, grinning as she did so. "I saw you practicing outside. You're really good." 

A blush began to creep up Ron's face. "Oh, uh, thanks." 

"The Quidditch robes go with your hair, too," she continued, her voice flattering. "Stunning, really." 

The flush on Ron's face deepened. "Thank -- thank-you," he said uncomfortably as Harry began to snicker from beside him. 

"Lavender! C'mon!" Everyone turned to see Pavarti Patil standing near the portrait motioning for Lavender to join her. 

"Will you join me for breakfast tomorrow, Ron?" Lavender asked flirtingly turning away from Pavarti. 

"Um.... Okay...." This struck him as slightly odd considering they always ate at the same table anyway. 

Lavender grinned brightly. "Okay, then. I'll see you tomorrow!" she said before she hurried away. Ron stood rigid as Harry burst out into peals of laughter. 

"_Someone_ likes you, Ron!" Harry hooted. "And she certainly isn't modest about it! It did kind of come out of nowhere, though...." 

"Did she really just -- did she...." Ron's stunned voice trailed off as his gaze landed on Hermione. Her face was white but her eyes were blazing, her fists clenched at her sides. 

"What's wrong?" Ron asked her as Harry began to regain his composure. 

Hermione only shook her head as she walked stiffly by and up the stairs to her dorm. Ron shook his head and sat down hard on a nearby table, not bothering to walk the short distance to the couch, thoroughly bewildered. 

. 

The instant Draco Malfoy walked into the Slytherin common room with a pair of ominoculors in his hands, Pansy Parkinson knew _exactly_ what he had been doing. She smirked as she sidled up to him before he could escape to his dormitory. 

"Spying on the Gyffindor team?" she asked innocently. 

"That's what I _intended_ to do, but it seems they don't even _have_ a team yet!" Draco growled. "They only have four players. They hardly practiced at all. Though I must say the Weasley girl does seem rather good at being a Chaser." He frowned at this. 

"Don't worry about it, Dracie," Pansy cooed. She reached up to plant a kiss on his cheek but he pushed her away, not bothering to comment on the hated pet-name Pansy had given him. 

"I have to finish my homework," he grunted as he made his way over to one of the tables where a Transfiguration text book, a piece of parchment, a quill and ink bottle lay. 

"You're actually going to do your homework?" Pansy seemed surprised, hiding her hurt expression. 

"Yes. I'm not going to become a brainless git like the rest of you," Draco replied shortly as he opened the text book and flipped to the page he had left off at. 

Pansy ignored the insult. "Can I copy it later?" 

"No," Draco told her as he turned from the book to the parchment and began to write. 

"Please?" 

"No." 

Pansy sighed and sat down beside him, pressing her thigh against the blonde's. Draco seemed completely unaffected as he continued writing. Hurt but determined, Pansy placed a hand on Draco's leg and sat up straighter to whisper in his ear, "Why not?" 

Her breath tickled the Malfoy boy's ear and neck but he didn't flinch. Indeed he acted as though he hadn't felt anything at all. "You can do it yourself." 

"Oh, fine," Pansy snapped, clearly annoyed, and she stood to leave. "See if I ever do anything for you again, you bastard." 

In a flash, Draco had dropped his quill and stood, grabbed Pansy's hips and pulled her to his chest. Leaning down, he said into her ear, "Want to see how long you stay mad?" 

But Pansy had already forgiven him. Draco had that affect upon her. She melted against his well defined chest and the remaining occupants of the Slytherin common room left hurriedly, assuming, as always, that the worst was about to come. 

"I love you, Draco Malfoy," Pansy said in a seductive tone. 

Draco didn't respond to her words. Love was too strong of a word for him. He couldn't truthfully say that he loved anyone, not even his own parents, and he couldn't truthfully say that anyone loved him. Not that he particularly minded -- love was a pointless emotion in his opinion. 

But while Draco Malfoy didn't respond to Pansy's words, he _did_ respond to her tone. Cupping both of her breasts through her Slytherin robes, he bent forward and caught Pansy's lips in his own. A second later they had fallen to the couch. 


	5. FOUR meetings

A/N: Fourth chapter. Thanks for all the reviews. *super duper huggles* They mean _so much_!! (How many times have I said that now?) This is the longest chapter I've written for this fic thus far, but it's by no means long (at least I don't think so). It comes up just over five pages on my word processor. 

A bit of information: Natalie McDonald _is_ a real character in the Harry Potter books. She is mentioned in _The Goblet of Fire_ when she is sorted into Gryffindor. Ilona Kervoska is a fictional character, though. In case anyone cares *shrug*. 

**FOUR.meetings**

Hermione somehow managed to corner Parvati Patil in the sixth year girl's dorm before breakfast and, remarkably, Parvati was alone. 

"You knew Lavender liked Ron?" Hermione said. It was more of an accusation than a question. 

"Yeah." Parvati appeared confused, watching Hermione's angry eyes curiously. 

"How long has she liked him?" Hermione demanded. 

"Since last year," Parvati answered, looking at the bushy-haired girl suspiciously. "Why?" 

"Since last year?" Hermione's interrogating expression fell away. "Why did she wait until now to show it?" 

"She doesn't like rejection," Parvati replied. "She kind of shy when it comes to boys she really likes." 

Hermione looked incredulous. "She certainly seemed outgoing last night." 

Parvati nodded. "I know. It seems as though she gained more confidence over the summer. Quite strange, actually. She was so.... unlike herself. But I don't think she worries rejection anymore." 

"Apparently not," Hermione commented dryly. 

"I think Lavender's going to ask him out!" Parvati blurted suddenly, clasping her hands together in barely restrained excitement. "I think they would make a good couple, don't you?" 

"No, I don't think so," Hermione snapped without thinking, and she immediately flushed. "I just -- I just think that Lavender is too much of a gossiper for Ron. Too girlie." 

Parvati shrugged. "To each his own, Hermione. Why are you concerned, anyway?" 

"Ron wanted to know," Hermione said quickly, but although Parvati nodded, it was fairly obvious she thought this untrue. 

. 

First period found Hermione on the Astronomy Tower. Since classes could only be held there at night, she knew it would be vacant. She leaned on the stone wall, watching some first years have their flying lesson far below. From Hermione's altitude the students appeared to be small dots racing around near the ground, but she saw without really seeing, so deep in thought was she. 

Lavender had flirted with Ron outrageously all through breakfast and Hermione had been infuriated to see that Ron had begun to flirt back. It wasn't really the flirting, though, that had caused Hermione to skip class, and it wasn't really the flirting that she was thinking about. It was the fact that she had felt so angry. She didn't know why. 

She sighed then. It was pointless to keep lying to herself. She knew _exactly_ why she was feeling a boiling hatred towards Lavender. She was jealous. 

Hermione felt petty just admitting it. It was a pointless jealousy for there had never been anything more than friendship between her and Ron. And, to her, it also seemed a bit improper for her to have a crush on one of her best friends. 

She sighed again as she realized that most lasting relationships were friendships first. Frustration rose up in her as she realized how different things could have been had she only admitted to both herself and Ron that she had liked him for two years. 

Her thoughts became more intimate as she imagined his arms wrapped around her protectively, his soft lips silencing her with warm kisses, his -- 

"What the hell are you doing here!?" 

Hermione nearly jumped out of her skin as she spun around to face the speaker. Her eyes narrowed as she saw him. "I could ask you the same thing, Malfoy." 

"You could," the blonde, gray-eyed boy admitted, "but I asked you first. Therefore, I get an answer first." 

Hermione sniffed and turned away. "It's none of your business." 

"Then nor is my reason for being here any of yours." He approached the jagged wall and looked over the school grounds. "Now go away. Class has already started, Granger." 

"I should hope so," Hermione remarked coolly. "The professors' would be terribly off-task if they hadn't." 

"Not afraid to miss an invaluable lesson then, Mudblood?" 

"Piss off, Malfoy," Hermione snapped, her cool composure breaking at the foul name. 

Draco only smirked. 

"Did you come here just to bother me?" Hermione asked. 

"No," Draco replied, "but why skip such a great opportunity?" 

"Then why are you here?" she demanded angrily. 

"I asked you first, remember." 

"I was _thinking_, Malfoy!" she shouted. "Is that a problem?" 

"Depends on what you were thinking," Draco drawled. "Let me guess...." A smirk formed on his lips. It was a strange smirk, one that Hermione couldn't decipher. While it seemed to hold amusement, it was also mirthless. "You were thinking how great it would be to be in my bed while I actually--" 

A crack across Draco's face ended his sentence and turned his head. He was motionless for a moment, a red mark appearing on his cheek, before he swiveled his head back around to fix Hermione with a piercing glare, his gray eyes hard and smoldering. She had _slapped_ him, and what was worse, it wasn't the first time. 

A sudden image of the same girl slapping him in third year appeared unbidden in his mind. Furiously, he shook the thought away, his eyes darkening as he saw Hermione's head lift triumphantly. 

"You'll regret that, Mudblood. You got away with it once -- you won't get away with it again. It's no bloody wonder Weasley chose that perky, gossiping Brown girl over you." 

Hermione's eyes widened and she took a step back. How had he known? Her mind was turbulent with questions and panic. 

"How -- how --" she stuttered. 

Draco snorted. "Who couldn't tell? You fixed that girl with such a look of contempt when she was flirting with Weasley at breakfast.... But honestly, Granger, who could want a girl as hideous as you?" 

Hermione could think of no comeback, too stunned and hurt was she. Her eyes welled with tears and she fled the Astronomy Tower without so much as a backwards glance. 

Draco's smirk, smug and victorious, followed her until she was out of sight. 

. 

It was during Potions when Ron felt someone press a piece of paper into his hand. As he looked up from his cauldron he saw Lavender pull her hand away and glance nervously over at Snape. The Potion's Master had his back turned and Lavender sighed quietly in relief. 

Sending his own inconspicuous glance at Snape, Ron unfolded the parchment and read. 

_Ron,_ it said, the handwriting small but neat, 

_Please meet me in the kitchens at midnight tonight. I have something to tell you. If you are unable to make it, please write back. And please don't tell anyone._

__

_-Lavender_

Ron raised an eyebrow as he glanced at Lavender. She looked back inquiringly. 

"I'll try," Ron mouthed. 

Lavender grinned and nodded, and turned back to her potion. Pocketing the note, Ron did the same, flinching as Snape shouted, "_No_, Longbottom! Can't you do _anything_? You useless boy...." 

. 

Ron waited until Herbology to tell Harry and Hermione about the letter, because Lavender's table was across the greenhouse. Despite Lavender's request for him to keep it a secret, Ron felt he _had_ to tell his two best friends. He was certain they would tell him if they were in his position. 

"What did I tell you?" Harry said smugly. "She _really_ likes you." 

"I never doubted you," Ron pointed out. 

"You're not _actually_ going to go, are you?" Hermione asked. 

"Why not?" Ron inquired. "Just as long as I can get out of the common room." 

"You can use my Cloak," Harry offered, referring to the Invisibility Cloak that had been passed down to him from his father. "What I want to know is how Lavender, of all people, found the kitchens." 

"What _I_ want to know," Hermione said, her voice obviously angry, "is what she wants to say. What could be so important that it can't be said in the common room?" 

"Maybe she doesn't want eavesdroppers," Harry suggested as he scribbled down the actions of his lethargic Carthile. 

"_Exactly_!" Hermione said. "So what does she want to say? And there are House Elves in the kitchens anyway. That's not exactly the best place to go if one doesn't want eavesdroppers." 

"The House Elves don't give a damn," Ron said, prodding his snoozing Carthile with a stick. "I'll tell you what happens. Why are you so concerned?" 

Hermione didn't answer. She was thinking about the conversation that had taken place with Parvati that morning. 

_"I think Lavender's going to ask him out!" Parvati blurted suddenly, clasping her hands together in barely restrained excitement. "I think they would make a good couple, don't you?"_

__

_"No, I don't think so," Hermione snapped without thinking, and she immediately flushed. "I just -- I just think that Lavender is too much of a gossiper for Ron. Too girlie."_

__

_Parvati shrugged. "To each his own. Why are you concerned, anyway?"_

. 

"I'm going to bed," Harry announced at about eleven that night. 

"Yeah, me too," Ron agreed, yawning. 

"Fine, g'night," Hermione said sourly as Harry and Ron made their way to their dormitory to fetch the Cloak. 

Harry pulled the sheer material out from his trunk and ran it through his hands. It had been quite a while since he'd used it. 

"I wish I had an Invisibility Cloak," Ron breathed. "It's so useful." 

Harry nodded in agreement. 

"Shut-up!" Harry heard Dean laugh. "You're such a stupid git." 

Eyes wide, Harry threw the Cloak over Ron, hiding him instantly, then grabbed his pajamas off his bed. Dean and Seamus appeared in the doorway and they entered the room laughing. 

"Hey, Harry!" Dean called cheerfully. "That was a great Quidditch practice, don't you think?" 

Harry had to agree. "'Twas. We're have a great team." 

Harry had chosen third year Ilona Kervoska to be their third Chaser. She had amazing skill and fantastic aim, succeeding in getting all her shots past Ron. Though she was using one of the school's old Shooting Stars (a very difficult broom to steer), she flew magnificently and she told Harry she would ask her parents to purchase a broom of her own for her before their first match. 

"I'm going to buy a Nimbus 2001," Dean Thomas said to Harry as he walked to his bed. "I'd get a Firebolt, but they're too expensive for me. At least I'll be able to match the Slytherins!" He grinned and closed the curtains around his four-poster. Seamus had disappeared into the bathroom. 

Harry elbowed the air behind him, successfully hitting Ron. "Let's get going," he hissed, dropping his pajamas back on the bed and hurrying out of the room. He went through the portrait with Ron and walked with him down from the tower where they parted, Harry making his way back to the Gryffindor Tower and Ron continuing on his way to the kitchens. 

Ron made it to the picture in no time. He hadn't run into any trouble at all. No teachers, no Filch or his stupid cat, and no Peeves. Ron tickled the pear and the picture swung open. He stepped inside the kitchen and shed the Invisibility Cloak. If Lavender had already arrived, she was nowhere in sight. 

The House Elves seemed startled by his sudden appearance but were glad that he had come to visit. 

"I'm waiting for someone," Ron told them. "A girl. Is she here yet?" 

"A girl?" the House Elf called Dobby asked, grinning stupidly. "Dobby hasn't seen a girl, sir." 

"Winky saw a girl, sir!" Winky exclaimed excitedly. "She was here earlier, sir. Winky saw her talking to Comi, sir." Winky pointed to a cheerful looking Elf with a duster. 

Ron smiled his thanks at Winky. He remembered when she had first arrived at Hogwarts, how depressed she had been about having been sent away from her family. But she had coped and adjusted, now admitting that she was treated better at Hogwarts than she previously had been. 

Walking over to the Elf called Comi, Ron learned that Lavender had merely been there to ask permission if it was all right to use the kitchens for a quick rendezvous. "Lavender Brown said she would be here around midnight, sir," Comi told him blithely. "You're a bit early, sir, if you're the one coming to meet her." She pointed to a clock on the wall and Ron saw that he still had five minutes to wait. 

"Thanks," he said, then turned to Dobby. "D'you think I could have some pumpkin juice while I wait?" 

"Of course!" Dobby said, straightening his vest importantly as he hurried away to fetch the refreshment. Ron grinned. He always liked taking the trip down to the kitchens. 

Dobby returned not a minute later with a pitcher filled with refreshing pumpkin juice and a cup. Taking both things from the Elf, Ron poured himself a glass and gulped it down. Then he put it aside for later. He nodded his thanks. Dobby beamed and hurried off again. 

The picture swung open once more and all the Elves grinned as they hurried to usher Lavender Brown inside. She looked surprised at the hospitality but pleased. Then she grinned as she spotted Ron. 

The House Elves snickered to themselves and hurried out of the room, leaving the two alone. It was then that Ron began to feel uncomfortable. 

"You asked said you needed to tell me something?" Ron reminded her. 

Lavender nodded. "I do." She took a deep breath and seemed to be gathering her wits. "I really, _really_ like you Ron," she said and a flush crept up Ron's neck. "I've liked you since fifth year. I was just too afraid to tell you. But I've gotten over my fear of rejection." She said this proudly and tossed her head as she looked up into Ron's blue eyes. "Ron... will you go out with me?" 

The question left Ron speechless. "Um... I...." His ears were flaming, almost camouflaged with his vivid hair. 

"You don't have to answer right away," Lavender carried on hurriedly. "I mean, all of this was just suddenly... _there_. You can think about it overnight, but I would like an answer sometime tomorrow. If that's all right." 

"I -- I...." Ron stammered, bewildered, then lowered his gaze to the floor. "I can't, Lavender. I'm sorry." 

He saw Lavender's body go rigid and there was an uncomfortable silence for a few minutes before she spoke. "Okay. Thank-you for telling me," she whispered. "But I would like to know one thing...." 

Ron looked up again. "What's that?" 

"_Why_?" 

"I don't know," Ron mumbled. "I don't know you well enough, I guess." 

"That's reasonable, I suppose," Lavender said, straightening her back almost arrogantly, though Ron could tell she was merely trying to hold onto her pride and composure. She managed a smile. "But if you only go out with girls you know well, you might want to give Hermione a try." Her eyes twinkled mischievously at this statement before she turned and left the room. 

Ron stared after her, stunned. 


	6. FIVE contrivances

**FIVE.contrivances**

"So what happened last night?" Harry asked Ron as he took his seat beside him at the Great Hall. 

Ron shrugged. "Nothing important," he replied casually. 

"Oh really?" Hermione inquired, frowning at her red-haired friend from across the table. "Well, either way, both Harry and I are interested about hearing about your trip to the kitchens, unimportant or not." 

"_Something_ must have happened," Harry pressed. "Don't tell me you showed up and stared at each other for the whole night." 

"No. We... talked." 

"_And_? What was said?" Hermione asked. 

Ron sighed, glancing between his two best friends, somehow wishing that he could keep this from them. He quickly racked his brain for any possible way, found there weren't any, and sighed again. Besides, they'd pester and ask him until he died if he didn't tell them now. "Well, she asked me out." 

Harry's eyes widened, then he grinned. "Nothing important my arse! If _that's_ not important, I don't want to know what is." 

Hermione frowned at him. "Did you agree?" 

"Of course he did!" Harry exclaimed. "What kind of a git _wouldn't_?" 

"This kind, apparently," Ron remarked dryly, and Harry turned to stare at him. 

"You didn't," the black-haired wizard accused. 

"I did," Ron replied firmly. "I said I didn't know her well enough to date her." 

"Then you offered to get to know her better. Right?" Harry said. 

"No, actually," Ron admitted. "I was going to, but then she left. She didn't seem upset or anything, though. She was actually quite understanding." 

Harry looked shocked. "But Ron! Lavender's a really pretty girl, and she seems really nice. Think of what you might have given up!" 

"_I'm_ glad you turned her down," Hermione said, and both boys looked at her. "I don't think you would have made a good couple," she added with a speculative frown. "No, not a good couple at all." 

"Why do you say that?" Ron asked. 

"She doesn't like Quidditch," Hermione informed him. "I don't think you could stand dating a girl who doesn't like Quidditch." 

Harry's jaw dropped in false shock. "_What_? What do you _mean_ she doesn't like Quidditch!" 

Hermione only rolled her eyes at him and went back to her cereal. 

. 

"How would you make an item fly across the room?" Hermione asked, flipping through Ginny's Charms book. 

"You've asked me that three times already," Ginny pointed out. 

Hermione frowned for a moment, then nodded slowly. "So I have." She flipped through the book again, her hand straying to where Crookshanks lay beside her. "Okay, then. How would you make an object fly across the room?" 

"Something's bothering you, Hermione," Ginny said. It wasn't a question. 

Hermione shook her head. "It's nothing." 

Ginny's brown eyes were concerned. "If nothing was wrong, how come you asked me the same simple question four times?" 

"Nothing's wrong," Hermione repeated firmly. 

The younger girl raised an eyebrow. "You don't look like nothing's wrong." 

She sighed. "Well..." Hermione began slowly, "there _is_ something, but it's not important. Now, shall we move onto Potions?" 

Ginny cast her friend an unsure glance, but nodded, picking up the heavy Potions book and handing it to her friend. 

"What are the first three ingredients you would add to make a Polyjuice Potion?" Hermione inquired. 

Ginny listed them off, and Hermione nodded her approval. She began to thumb through the pages of the Potion book, reached the back cover, and tried to keep flipping. She was obviously elsewhere. 

"Hermione?" 

"Ginny... tell me honestly. Do you think I'm ugly?" 

Ginny started at the unexpected question, her freckled face radiating the surprise she felt. "No!" she replied firmly. "No, of course not! Why would you think such a thing?" 

"I just -- someone -- I didn't..." she stammered, feeling the blush creep up her face. She could only imagine how Ginny must have felt to be asked such a question, to be put in that kind of position. She began to stroke Crookshanks' fur, earning herself a rumbling purr from the orange feline. "Someone kind of hinted at the fact that I was. I don't know why I let it get to me, though. He's never said anything nice." 

"Who said that?" Ginny demanded, setting her books on the table beside her, her quizzing suddenly forgotten. 

"Don't worry about it. 'Who' is not important." Her hand paused momentarily on Crookshanks' head, before continuing on its way down his back. 

"Yes, it is. Let me guess, then. It was Malfoy, wasn't it?" 

Hermione turned to look at her friend and nodded. "It was." 

Ginny frowned. "I somehow get the idea Malfoy more than _hinted_ that you were "ugly." Don't listen to him, Hermione. He's a useless bugger. He was probably just saying it to bother you, anyway; I don't think even _he_ could deny that you're attractive." 

Hermione smiled. "Thank you, Ginny. You're a great friend." 

Ginny grinned, slightly embarrassed, and retrieved her books. "No problem. But do me a favour: don't listen to brainless gits from now on, okay?" 

. 

"I was beginning to wonder if you stood me up, Draco Malfoy." 

"I'm not late," Draco pointed out gruffly. "You were just early." 

Pansy smiled, lowering her lashes seductively and ignoring Draco's ignorant tone completely. "Why here, though? Why not the Astronomy Tower? That _is_ the place to go for a little snogging session." 

"Other people go there." 

"No one would care, Dracie. They'd all be too busy with their... partner." 

Draco's eye twitched minutely at the pet name. "Don't call me that," he growled at her. 

Pansy replied with a sickly sweet smile. 

"And I didn't mean other snogging people. I meant thinking people." 

"Thinking people?" 

"People go there to be alone, it seems." 

"Since when?" Pansy demanded, incredulous. This was news to her. 

Draco shrugged. "Very recently, I assume." He and Pansy had cut Transfiguration on the second day and spent the entire period on the Astronomy Tower. No one had come to bother them. 

"Who was it? And why were you there?" 

"_I_ was there to see how crowded it was. To see if I would need to find a better, more private place." He paused to smirk. "And it was the Granger girl who was there _thinking_." 

Pansy rolled her eyes. "I'm not worried about that Mudblood. She couldn't very well go squealing -- she'd get in trouble as well for skipping class, and she's not a Prefect, so she wouldn't be able to take points from Slytherin. But...." She glanced around the empty classroom they vacated. "This place is much nicer than the Tower." 

Draco had to agree. He wasn't sure what the room had originally been, nor why it wasn't in use now, but he wasn't going to complain. There was little furniture, though. It had a couch in the far corner -- kept clean by the House Elves -- though it _was_ a bit hard and uncomfortable. There were enough cushions piled on the chesterfield to make up for it. There was a rocking chair near the windows and a small table near the door. The carpet was soft and fluffy, as though it had just been put down and never before trodden on, and deep forest green in colour. The walls were a dark mahogany colour and appeared to be wood, but Draco had no doubt that a simple incantation and a flick of a wand had caused that effect. 

"Let's not waste any more time. Five minutes have already gone by," Pansy said, and she suddenly grabbed his face and pressed her mouth fiercely to his. 

Draco's response was instantaneous. His arms wrapped around her waist (which was none too trim) and her hands went to the back of his neck. As always, the intimacy with Pansy didn't feel quite right. It felt as though something was missing -- something important yet something unfamiliar. But he somehow knew that whatever was missing _could_ be felt... just not with Pansy. 

He didn't dwell on it. He was sixteen, after all, and he was alone in a room with his girlfriend -- who had no problem with climbing all over him. He would try to pinpoint what was missing later. 

Almost an hour later, the door to the room swung open and an extremely disheveled Pansy stumbled out. Her hair was tangled about her head like a bird's nest and her makeup was smudged. Draco sauntered out after her and Pansy was pleased to see that, for once, his hair was also messy and that the buttons on his shirt had been done up incorrectly. He normally showed so signs of having had a snogging session with her except for the fact that his eyes still held a lustful glint. 

"Tomorrow?" she breathed. 

"Tomorrow," Draco said firmly, and they both turned and walked in different directions down the hall. 

. 

"But what about Harry Potter, my Lord?" 

"Harry Potter!" he spat. "He won't get in our way." 

"But what if he does, my Lord?" the first voice asked. 

"Are you questioning me, Wormtail?" Voldemort bellowed, spinning to face his servant, his cloak swishing around his legs as he moved. 

"N-no, my Lord. I beg your forgiveness." 

Voldemort didn't seem to hear him. "I have already instructed Lucius Malfoy to stand guard with three other Death Eaters of his choice. If Harry Potter _does_ show up, he won't be here very long." His thin mouth twisted into a wicked smile. 

But Harry Potter has escaped from more than four Death Eaters before... as well as from yourself, Wormtail wanted to say, but he wisely held his tongue despite the spite that was raging inside him. What made his master think that he would be able to stop Harry Potter now when he hadn't been able to before? 

Voldemort crossed the shabby room to the window nearby. The window was streaked with dirt and the shutters were broken. He took a quick glance over his shoulder and misread the contempt on Wormtail's face. "I take it you have an opinion?" he asked, turning back to the filthy window. 

Wormtail swallowed nervously. He _did_ have an opinion. Voldemort nodded at intervals, his eyes showing that he was thinking as they did on the rare occasion. The Animagus finished and swallowed again. The cloak swirled again as Voldemort turned completely to face his servant. 

"For once, Wormtail, you have used your head. I do not like the thought of waiting so long, but you _do_ bring up some valid points." He began to pace the room, musing. "I will ask Malfoy for his opinion and then we will set to work on the finer details," he said, the fact that it had been Wormtail's suggestion already forgotten. Peter glared with rancor at his master's back, daring to sit up from his bowed position. As Voldemort turned to look in his direction, Wormtail hastily thrust his head back towards the ground, missing the twisted smile that once again crossed the Dark Lord's face. 

"Then, after we are done," Voldemort carried on, "I will go after Harry Potter. _This_ time, I will kill him!" Then he opened his mouth, threw back his head and laughed a cold, cruel laugh, his red eyes glittering with a maniacal light. The laugh held no mirth, no amusement, only a longing to see the one he loathed so much dead at his feet, murdered at last by his own hand. 


	7. SIX memorandums

**SIX.memorandums**

The owl the colour of midnight stood out against the flock of brown and gray barn owls. Draco knew instantly from the owl's unusual colouring that his father had written him. It was strange, though, that Lucius Malfoy had used his personal owl rather than Draco's. 

The owl swooped over the Slytherin table and landed gracefully beside Draco's plate. He untied the letter from its talons and the black owl flew in a wide circle over the Great Hall and exited. He broke the Malfoy seal. 

"What does it say?" Pansy asked, peering over Draco's shoulder at his letter. 

"Sod off," Draco snapped at her. "I don't read your post." 

With a mixture of hurt and embarrassment on her face, Pansy went back to her food and avoided looking at the blonde boy next to her. 

Unfolding the parchment, Draco began to read his father's cramped, slanted scrawl. 

_Draco,_

__

_The time has come_. 

Draco's face went white. He knew exactly what the simple statement meant. He slowly folded the paper back up and placed it beside his plate, eerily silent. 

"Bad news?" Pansy asked meekly, chancing a glance at her boyfriend. 

"Worse than that," Draco replied, and for once his voice held hardly any malice. 

. 

"You _still_ waste your money on the _Daily Prophet_?" Ron asked, rolling his eyes as Hermione paid the small brown and white owl. "You know about all the junk they've written about Harry and my dad." 

"Yes," Hermione replied firmly. "I've told you before, Ron: if they're going to write stuff about you, you should at least know what they're saying. Besides, I want to keep updated now that Voldemort is back." 

She unfolded the paper with one hand as she took a drink of pumpkin juice, completely missing Ron's wince at the wizard's name. 

"Someone robbed Gringotts," Hermione told Harry and Ron as she scanned the headlines. 

"Who?" Harry asked. 

"Hold on...." Hermione said with a frown, turning to the second page. "Here, listen to this: 

_Officials are baffled as to how the robber managed to escape. Gringotts goblins insist that the security wasn't changed but hotly deny that it was a goblin that broke into vault number seventy-three, the vault of Alice Longbottom, currently residing in St. Mungo's Hospital. Ms Longbottom is unable to tell Ministry workers what was in the vault at the time._

__

_Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, demands that the goblins of Gringotts crank up security, though he has no suggestions as to how to go about doing this._

This part is unimportant," Hermione said, pausing her reading. "It just goes on to talk about Fudge." 

Ron whistled between his teeth. "It must've been a goblin. Maybe not a Gringotts goblin, but definitely a goblin." 

"Gringotts was broken into once before." Hermione said. "Way back in first year." 

"That's right!" Harry exclaimed. "Just think what would have happened if Hagrid hadn't emptied the vault before Voldemort got there...." 

"Let's not," Hermione said with a small smile. Then she became suddenly serious "Everyone who's tried to rob Gringotts has been caught... except for Voldemort, that is." 

Ron stared at his friend "So you think that You-Know-Who broke into Gringotts again?" 

Hermione turned her dark gaze from Harry to Ron. "That's exactly what I think." 

. 

Harry, Hermione and Ron walked together through Hogsmeade on the first Hogsmeade visit of the year. 

"You're sure that he knows it's today?" Hermione asked. 

"He's not stupid," Harry said, "and I didn't give him the wrong date." 

"He's probably just late," Ron reasoned. "Or making sure the coast is clear." 

"Do you think he'd like a butterbeer?" Harry asked as they passed The Three Broomsticks. 

"Probably. I don't know when Siri -- Snuffles would have last managed to get one," Ron said, correcting himself hastily. "Do you want to get some quickly?" 

Harry nodded and the trio made their way into the shop. 

"There he is," Ron muttered to Harry as they stood in line with Hermione to purchase the drinks. 

Harry turned to look where Ron was and saw a large, shaggy dog sitting on the street and looking through The Three Broomsticks window. Harry grinned and, the four drinks in hand, walked out to his godfather. 

"Hi, Sirius," Harry said in a low voice as he pet the dog's head. "We brought you a butterbeer." He took a bottle from Ron without thinking and held it out towards the former Azkaban prisoner. 

"Dogs don't drink butterbeer, Potter," said a cold voice. 

Harry didn't look up. "Sod off, Malfoy." 

"Unless, of course," Draco carried on as though Harry hadn't spoken, "that _black_ dog isn't really a dog." 

Harry blanched and stood, standing to face Draco, Pansy, Crabbe and Goyle. 

"Of course it's a dog," Hermione said from behind Harry. "What else would it be?" 

Draco only smirked. 

"I don't see why it's your business what I feed _my_ dog anyway, Malfoy," Harry pointed out. 

"I somehow doubt that it is _your_ dog, Potter," Pansy said dryly. "I've heard how those Muggles treat you -- why would they get you a dog? And how would it get to Hogsmeade? And I don't think it's a stray, because it would be too difficult to take care of seeing as you're still in school and all." 

"It's my dog," Ron said quickly, "but he's very attached to Harry." 

"You mean it's your long-lost brother," Draco corrected him nonchalantly and Crabbe and Goyle snickered. 

The colour rose in Ron's face and he rolled up his sleeves. Hermione and Harry each grabbed an arm and held him back. 

"Even _I_ can see that this whole argument is ludicrous," a woman said, and each turned to look at the speaker. 

Hermione recognized her, but not by name. She had a thick golden braid that fell over her shoulder and her eyes were a pale blue. Her eyebrows were perfectly, if not naturally, sculpted, her ruby lips full. She stood with her arms folded over her chest but did not hide the Slytherin crest on her breast. 

Pansy sneered at her. "Go away, Blaise. Why are you concerning yourself with our business?" 

"Just because I comment doesn't mean I am concerned," the girl named Blaise said coolly. "I couldn't care less what you do." She paused. "No, that isn't entirely true. There are some things Draco Malfoy may do that concern me, and that is why I must speak with him." 

All heads turned again, this time to look at Draco. A strange half-amused light shone in his gray eyes. 

"You're a bigger git than I originally took you for if you think that I'll take the time to speak with _you_," he said flippantly. 

Hermione instantly knew that this girl was unpopular, even for a Slytherin, and she found herself wondering why. 

"It would do you well to hold your tongue, Malfoy, come with me and listen," Blaise said, and her tone held no room for defiance. "The time has come, after all." 

. 

"I wonder why that Blaise girl wanted to talk to Malfoy," Hermione said as she leaned against the cave wall. 

"If we're lucky," Ron remarked ruefully, "she'll rip his insides out and force him to eat it." 

"Which, by the way, is quite possible," Sirius said, frowning into his butterbeer. 

"What?" Harry asked with a laugh. 

Sirius looked suddenly shrewd. "Draco Malfoy is sixteen now, is he not?" he asked slowly. 

"Yes," Harry said, "same age as us." 

Sirius frowned again. "I guess it's no surprise, then. That Blaise Zabini wanted to talk to him, I mean." 

Harry was bewildered and he exchanged surprised glances with Ron across the cave. "_What_?" 

"I learned a lot about Death Eaters from being an Auror," Sirius said. "No one was allowed to join unless they were sixteen or older. Lucius Malfoy is a Death Eater; I've no doubt that Draco Malfoy will soon be doing his Death Eater initiation." 

"What does that have to do with Blaise Zabini?" Hermione asked. 

"All the Zabinis are Death Eaters," Sirius said, rolling his eyes as though this were common knowledge. "She'll probably be doing _her_ initiation too. Maybe she wanted to know if Draco Malfoy knew anything." 

When the students assembled to make their way back to Hogwarts, Hermione glanced towards Draco, expecting his eyes to be shining with a rare excitement. But his gaze only appeared slightly confused. Otherwise Draco Malfoy's face was expressionless. 

. 

"Did you get it?" Voldemort asked sharply. 

The man nodded, lowering his head in a bow. "I did, my Lord." And he handed over a piece of parchment. 


	8. SEVEN inaugurations

A/N: After about a three month wait, the seventh chapter has finally been posted. I have been really busy with school and it didn't help that my inspiration had deserted me. One of my betas gave my muse a little shove in my direction, though, and ideas came flooding back. 

I also post a question to you: I've come up with a better title for this fic. It hit me during music class one day, but because I've already posted seven chapters under "A Foretold Love" I'm hesitant as to whether I should change it. The new title is "Between the Lines." I asked my betas their opinions, but they have the same thoughts as myself. "Between the Lines" is a better title, but "A Foretold Love" is the original. So what do _you_ think? 

***Thanks to my betas for reading over this chapter.****

****

**SEVEN.inaugurations**

Draco Malfoy sat in his dormitory, his candle the only one still burning. Crabbe's snores were rumbling through the room, and Goyle was muttering in his sleep. The other occupants were silent. 

The candlelight danced across Draco's face, turning his gray eyes to silver. A piece of paper was clenched in his hand, his gaze almost magically drawn to the writing. 

_The time has come_. 

His eyes narrowed into a glare at the paper, and he suddenly threw it on the candle flame. That note was the start of all this pressure, anxiety and confusion! The edges of the parchment blackened and crumbled quickly, and ashes fluttered down onto his bedside table. Then Draco blew out the flame wearily and lay down on top of his covers. 

But although the paper was destroyed, the emotional turmoil still remained. Draco did not find sleep for many hours. 

. 

In her own dormitory across the common room, Blaise Zabini was awake, but she lay in darkness. She prayed that her words had gotten through to the Malfoy boy, hoped that he'd decide to think for himself rather than following along like a sick puppy. She had surrendered to it; she knew Draco was strong enough to fight back. 

_"You can't hide behind your father forever, Draco Malfoy! He won't protect you once you become a Death Eater! You'll have to face You-Know-Who yourself! He will give you instructions directly and if you fail, you will be punished directly. Lucius won't take the heat for you."_

__

_His next words hit her hard, left her speechless, made her stop and think. His gray eyes bore directly into hers, hard and cold. And he said, "My father has never protected me."_

Blaise sighed. Draco Malfoy had it rough. 

. 

"What is it today? Monday?" Ron asked on a yawn. 

"Yeah. Potions first," Harry replied and Ron groaned loudly. 

"At least it's not with the Slytherins today," he said. "Look, the post is here." 

Harry looked up to see a flock of owls streaming into the Great Hall. He looked around for Hedwig, saw she wasn't there, and went back to his breakfast. A gray barn owl stopped near Hermione, who took the _Daily Prophet_ from its talons and gave it a knut in return. 

"Hey! Listen to this!" Hermione exclaimed, pointing to the front page. "It seems that Hogwarts is going to have a public paper of its own!" 

"How fascinating," Ron muttered sarcastically. "Let's go waste our time writing a newspaper." 

Harry had a similar outlook. "_Why_? What's the point?" 

Hermione read the article out loud. "_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry: a bit of a secluded place. Not many visitors, not much communication. It is a common complaint of parents that their children rarely send home letters. Even less frequently do the letters contain anything significant, an issue heightened when the supposedly fabled Chamber of Secrets was opened. My parents were horrified to discover that the crisis had been going on before the true events of the school went public, cheerful letters home full of blatant lies, covering the undeniable happenings.'_

__

_"There was a long time ago when Hogwarts School produced papers that were owled to any who wished to read about the school doings. Some of you may have received the Hogwarts Hog yourself. Many more of you probably recall why the paper's production was cancelled._

__

_"'When You-Know-Who reached his full power, information needed to be rationed,' says Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic. 'The _Daily Prophet_ was released weekly and censored any strategic information. The Hogwarts Hog was cancelled altogether since we believed that Hogwarts School would be one of You-Know-Who's favoured targets. We didn't want You-Know-Who to gain any strategic advantages through news stories we had printed ourselves.'_

__

_"Even when You-Know-Who lost his power and disappeared, the Hogwarts Hog didn't resume production. This is mainly because of the mystery surrounding his disappearance. The Ministry wished to keep certain security measures in place until his exact location and status could be determined, since the notion of this powerful wizard being killed by an infant seemed highly unbelievable and almost unrealistic. As You-Know-Who was never found, the Hogwarts Hog was never resumed._

__

_"'It's a new beginning. I believe that as the Hogwarts Hog begins production again, people will feel more secure. _Yes_, You-Know-Who has returned, but there is no reason to adopt any fear. Harry Potter has defeated him before; surely he can do it again. And do you honestly think that You-Know-Who would try to attack Hogwarts with Albus Dumbledore _and_ Harry Potter there?' says Cornelius Fudge. 'Besides, parents have a right to know what's going on at the school.'"_

Hermione looked up at Harry's stricken face and grinned. "He doesn't mean it," she assured him, glaring at Ron as he laughed into his cup. 

_"Some, however, have their doubts, particularly those with children attending Hogwarts. One woman who will remain anonymous argues that if He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is willingly given Hogwarts information, he won't think twice about breaking in. She said she is afraid for her children._

__

_"When this point was brought up to Mr. Fudge, the Minister dismissed it easily, firmly restating there was 'nothing to worry about.'_

__

_"Hogwarts Hog production has yet to begin but Fudge hopes the first issue will be released within the next two weeks, at which time an opening celebration will take place at Hogwarts School."_

Hermione closed the paper and looked at Harry and Ron across the table. Harry had his head in his hands. "That was the _last_ thing I needed," he muttered. 

"Not quite!" Ron said, clapping Harry on the back. "We have potions next!" 

. 

It wasn't unheard of but was uncommon nonetheless for post to be delivered at any meal other than breakfast. There were owls that got lost on their way to the school and delivered their packages at another meal, or letters from parents that had been forgotten to be delivered that morning. The lone owls that did happen to arrive at lunch or dinner attracted more attention than they otherwise would if they'd arrived at breakfast, and the recipient was more often to be interrogated about the letter's contents, for if it couldn't wait for the following morning's post then it must surely be interesting. The midnight owl that soared through the Great Hall during the midday meal, though, would have stood out no matter when it arrived or where it went. 

All the students looked up as it flew twice around the room, then landed on the Slytherin table near Draco Malfoy's plate. Many of the students lost interest then; it didn't concern them anymore, and it was _only_ a Slytherin. But it was just that very thing that piqued Hermione interest even more. She'd seen that owl deliver Draco a note a short while ago, a few days before Hogsmeade, and she recalled what Sirius had said. 

_"I learned a lot about Death Eaters from being an Auror. No one was allowed to join unless they were sixteen or older. Lucius Malfoy is a Death Eater; I've no doubt that Draco Malfoy will be doing his Death Eater initiation._" 

Contact from Voldemort? Hermione thought as she watched Draco open the letter. Instructions from his father on what he has to do? 

"What are you looking at?" 

Hermione jumped as she felt a hand on her shoulder. She spun her head around to see Ron frowning at her. 

"What's so interesting about the Slytherin table?" 

"I was just wondering why--" She stopped short. Why did she care if Draco Malfoy was going to do his Death Eater initiation? Why did she care if he'd received a letter from his father or Voldemort? How was that her problem? "I was just wondering why more people don't have black owls like that. They're very pretty." 

"It's probably expensive if Malfoy's got one," Ron said, and he rolled his eyes in disdain. 

Hermione shrugged and looked over her shoulder to see Draco crumple the paper and shoo the owl away. 

. 

Draco sat alone on the Astronomy Tower after lunch. He was supposed to be in Care of Magical Creatures, but he had much more important things to worry about. He reached into his pocket and removed the crumpled paper. 

_The beginning is upon us!_ His father wrote. _I will be by on Wednesday evening at 7:00 on the North Tower. We have much to discuss._

Draco snorted. He pulled out his wand and watched as a blue spark jumped from the tip to the paper, alighting the parchment. It seemed the only thing he could do was burn the letters, but it didn't change anything. 

_The beginning is upon us!_

He snorted again. The beginning of _what_? He wondered. Because for him, it was the beginning of the end. 

. 

"Two weeks?" he thundered. "_Two weeks_!?" 

Wormtail cowered at his master's feet. "I'm sure it won't take quite _that_ long, Lord," he whimpered. 

"It had better not," Voldemort snarled, spinning on his heel to glower at Peter Pettigrew. His red eyes narrowed, and Wormtail flinched under the piercing glare. He turned away, striding to his favourite window. "It had _better_ not." 

Wormtail sat up and glared at Voldemort's back. It wasn't _his_ fault it would take two weeks for the first _Hog_ issue to be finished! Peter clenched his fists and waved them in the air at Voldemort's back in a childish manner, as though that could somehow harm the powerful dark wizard before him. 

"Did Lucius send the letter?" Voldemort demanded next. 

Wormtail took on a sickening sweet tone. "Yes, Master. The owl should have arrived at the school by now." 

"Good," Voldemort said, and he made his way to the door to leave the room. "And don't let me catch you waving your fists at me again." 


	9. EIGHT propagation

A/N: After who knows how long, I've finally decided to continue working on this fic again, although I changed the title from "A FORETOLD LOVE" to "BETWEEN THE LINES". This is because of several reasons: One, I was greatly re-inspired by the opening of the third Harry Potter movie; two, I came across the old notebook where I had written the original versions of many of the earlier chapters and remembered what I had had planned for later in the fic; and three, summer days can be boring, and a fifteen year old girl needs something to occupy her when she's at home alone doing nothing (this is probably the most influential reason). I know that the wait was far too long, and most of my original readers have probably lost interest, but I'm hoping for those who are still around, and for any newcomers, you still enjoy the fic. ; 

A **GIGANTIC, ENORMOUS, GARGANTUAN** thank you goes out to my beta Noni, who still, after 7 months, agreed to continue editing my chapters. Super huggles to you! 

I've kept you guys waiting for the next chapter long enough, so finally, without further ado, I introduce chapter eight.... 

**EIGHT.propagation**

Hermione ate her pumpkin pasty as she patrolled the halls of Hogwarts School. It was her night to make sure that none of the students were breaking any rules, and as evening turned to night ensure that no pupils were walking about after curfew without permission. A glance at the clock told her that it was nearing seven o'clock, and she sighed as she realized she had another five hours of patrolling to do. If there was one thing Hermione would change about her Prefect duties, it would be to shorten the time they had to spend policing the halls. 

Hermione stood in the Entrance Hall, debating whether or not she could take a break. Most students were just sitting down to eat supper in the Great Hall, and those who weren't seemed to either be in the library, researching and studying for tests, or indisposed in the Hospital Wing. She tossed her head vigorously, as though trying to shake the debate out through her ears. How could she even _think_ of skipping out on her Prefect duties? She hadn't been granted that honour by breaking rules or deserting tasks. 

She was startled as the doors to the Great Hall opened and Malfoy came striding out. She frowned and looked at the clock once more. Five to seven. Supper starts at seven, Hermione thought. Why is he leaving before he's even eaten? 

Draco Malfoy seemed not to notice her as he made his way quickly up the stairs and Hermione realized that he wasn't even going back to his dormitory. She raised her eyebrows slightly and made her way after him, keeping a distance so that she wouldn't be seen. 

Once out of view from the Entrance Hall, Malfoy broke into a run, sprinting up the stairs. There was something mysterious going on; Hermione could feel it. She began to run after him, but not daring to match his speed for fear that her footsteps would be too loud. That proved unhelpful, however, as she lost sight of him and slowed to a walk. 

To her dismay, she had no idea where he had gone. For a fleeting moment she wondered if he had an Invisibility Cloak like Harry, then dismissed that idea as she figured if he _had_ he would have thrown it on long before now. Her ears strained for any sounds as she continued up the staircase. 

She froze as the word "late" reached her ears. Looking around, she saw that she was nearing the North Tower, and tilted her head to the side, both in confusion and in an attempt to catch more of what was being said. Hermione could hear speaking, but unfortunately she was too far to make out most of the words. 

The Gryffindor Prefect swallowed and tip-toed up to the Tower, pausing around the corner just outside the balcony. Her heart was pounding, knowing that what she was doing was wrong, but curiosity getting the better of her. 

"It is a wonderful evening, don't you agree Draco?" 

Hermione's blood ran cold as she recognized Lucius Malfoy's voice. What on earth is _he_ doing here? she thought. And why is he here in secret? 

"I didn't come here to talk about the weather with you, Father," came Malfoy's hard voice. "If that's all you wish to say, I'm leaving." 

"You know full well that's not what I came here to discuss," Lucius snapped. "I don't appreciate your ungrateful attitude." 

Silence followed and Hermione tried to breathe silently. Had Lucius called Draco to the North Tower to discuss his son's Death Eater initiation? 

"Is... anyone else here?" Draco asked at length. 

A chuckle. Then, "If by 'anyone else' you mean the Dark Lord, then no. But Crabbe is here, keeping watch. Do you see him?" 

More silence. Hermione assumed that Draco had answered with a gesture. 

"Why do--" Draco began, but his father cut him off harshly. 

"_Quiet!_ Someone is here." 

Hermione felt the blood drain from her face. She flattened herself against the wall and held her breath. Her ears caught the sound of footsteps quietly approaching, and without a second thought, she turned and fled down the stairs, adrenaline pushing her to her fastest. 

Lucius peered around the corner just in time to see a black cloak disappear down the stairs. He scowled darkly, and rounded on his son. "Didn't you check to see if anyone was following you?" he demanded. 

"No," Draco said coldly. "I'm a Prefect, remember. No one should wonder about my whereabouts or question my actions if it's something as simple as walking up the stairs." 

Lucius eyes darkened as his son's insolence. "Unless someone suspected you. Did you think of that?" 

Draco hadn't, though he would be damned if he let his father know that. "No one suspects me. I made sure of that," he lied. 

Lucius shook his head, angry. "We can't talk now. Whoever it was might be back. I will Owl you when another meeting can be arranged. Next time I expect you won't be as careless." 

. 

Hermione's feet didn't stop until she was back in the Entrance Hall. Five after seven. In a mere ten minutes both her suspicions and fears had been confirmed; Draco Malfoy was preparing for his Death Eater initiation. 

She sat down on the stairs, caught her breath and calmed herself, forcing herself to think logically. What was to happen next? It came to her that she needed more information before any sort of action could be taken. The issue of _where_ to get that information then arose. She decided that it wasn't the time to let Ron and Harry know. Not because she didn't trust them, but because she didn't trust others. Anyone could eavesdrop or overhear, or one of the boys could let it slip to another whom they deemed trustworthy. No, she told herself firmly. I won't tell them now. 

Hermione was preoccupied for the rest of the night, and didn't even realize when her patrol shift was over. She wandered the corridors for an extra hour before pulling out of her thoughts long enough to realize the time. Then she made her way back to the Gryffindor Common Room, her mind muddled and her thoughts snowballing. The idea of making a Polyjuice potion struck her so suddenly that she came to a complete halt on the stairs leading to her dormitory. She could create the brew and turn herself into Crabbe; she knew his father was a Death Eater and assumed that he would be taking the initiation himself. 

Although the solution to how to attain more information had been solved, Hermione's mind wouldn't let her sleep. Four o'clock found her in the Common Room near the fire, knitting socks for the House Elves. Her eyes were drooping but she worked quickly, almost as though she had had too much caffeine: the stimulant causing her exhaustion to go unnoticed. What a troubled mind will do to you, she thought bitterly, as she worried about how the following day's classes would proceed through her fatigue. 

She examined the half-completed socks of navy blue, proud of how her knitting had progressed in skill since she had first started S.P.E.W. Then Hermione frowned, and looked closer at the socks. Of course! she thought, a smile coming to her face as she held the footwear. 

Her mind was immediately put at ease, her new idea far simpler than her first. But with the calming of her thoughts came overwhelming exhaustion. Hermione fell asleep in the chair, the socks in her lap. 

. 

To her dismay, Hermione didn't get an opportunity to carry out her plan until Saturday. She had slept through most of Thursday and had to gather notes and get the homework from classmates. Needless to say she was up late into the night again on Thursday completing her work. Friday was the bi-weekly Prefect meeting at which Hermione made a note that Draco had not attended. No one else questioned his absence, however, as the meetings were sometimes forgotten. And so it wasn't until Saturday that Hermione was able to find time to be enlightened. 

She awoke early that morning and made her way down to the school kitchens, deciding that the early morning would be the best time as none of the other students, or staff, were awake. She tickled the pear and the portrait swung open. She entered the kitchen and was surprised to see that it was deserted. It hadn't previously occurred to her that the House Elves would also be sleeping at such an hour on the weekend. She sighed, feeling annoyed. Would she truly be forced to return at a later time and risk being caught? 

Hermione leaned on the kitchen counter, wondering if it would be wise to wake Dobby and bribe him for information with a previously knitted pair of yellow socks. She decided against that, knowing how she felt when she was awoken early for things that could be taken care of later. Though disappointed, Hermione thought it best to return closer to breakfast time, knowing that the Elves would be awake by then. 

She turned to leave and nearly collided with someone. She looked up, surprised, and saw that Ron was standing there, confusion clearly readable on his face. 

"R-Ron," she stammered. "Are you looking for food? Because if you are the House Elves don't seem to be awake yet." 

"I wasn't looking for food. I was looking for you." 

"For me?" 

He nodded, frowning at her. "Is there something wrong, Hermione? You were up most of the night on Wednesday, slept Thursday away, and were only half there at the Prefect meeting yesterday. Now you're up early on Saturday and coming to the kitchens, of all places." 

Hermione shook her head in dismissal. "I'm just preoccupied with school." 

Ron looked at his friend searchingly. "You're _always_ preoccupied with school," he pointed out, "but you're never like this. You can tell me what's wrong." 

"It's nothing, Ron, honestly. I would tell you if something was wrong," but even as she said it, Hermione could feel her face colouring at the lie. 

Ron nodded slowly. "Alright.... If you're sure." 

"Of course I'm sure." 

"Just remember that you can tell me anything." He gave her a small hug, then exited the kitchens in a hurry. 

It took Hermione a moment to realize what had just ensued. Ron had admitted, without _really_ admitting it, that he had been watching her. And not just when they were both doing the same thing in the same place, for he had known she spent Wednesday night in the Common Room. And he had admitted that he was worried about her. Then -- perhaps the most shocking thing of all -- he had hugged her. 

All worry concerning Draco Malfoy, Death Eaters and Voldemort vanished and she felt her heart beat wildly. But as soon as her hope and excitement began it ended. She highly doubted that Ron Weasley liked her. Was it so wrong and unheard of for a boy to worry about a girl as a friend? For a man to hug a woman as a friend? But do friends watch friends so that they know the other's sleeping patterns? Hermione asked herself. She came up with two answers: one was no, and the other was yes, if the friend was worried. And Ron had proven he was worried. 

Hermione felt her heart sink. She slipped to the floor almost as though her heart had brought her body down with it. 

. 

Hermione was sitting on the floor, dozing against the counter when the House Elves awoke. Dobby, knowing her best, poked her gently until she awoke. 

She blinked and looked around her stupidly, forgetting for a moment where she was. She saw that she was surrounded by confused Elves, anxious to get to work. Standing on her leg she saw Dobby, his ugly face appearing even more deformed as he smiled at her. 

"Good morning, Hermione Granger, ma'am. If Dobby can ask you, ma'am, why are you sleeping in the kitchens?" 

It took Hermione a moment to remember the answer to that herself. She quickly explained how she had arrived early only to find everyone asleep, then said that she had decided to sit down and wait and must've dozed off. 

"Winky wants to know why Hermione Granger was in the kitchens to begin with, ma'am, if she doesn't mind Winky asking, ma'am." 

Hermione smiled at Winky, remembering how the House Elf had been when she had first arrived to work at Hogwarts. The Elf had come a long way. "I wish to speak with Dobby. In private, if that's okay." 

"That's okay with Dobby, ma'am," Dobby replied. "Hermione Granger can go with Dobby, ma'am, to the Elves' sleeping quarters, if she doesn't mind, ma'am." 

Hermione nodded. "That would be fine." She followed Dobby to the back of the kitchen, and behind her she could hear the other House Elves busy themselves with making breakfast for the castle. 

Once in the Elves' dormitory, Dobby looked at Hermione confusedly. "Why does Hermione Granger wish to speak with Dobby, ma'am?" 

Hermione, already feeling cramping in the low-ceilinged room, smiled grimly. "I need to know about Draco Malfoy and the Death Eaters. You used to live with the Malfoys; what can you tell me?" 

She watched as Dobby's little body stiffened and froze. He was clearly hesitant, fighting with himself. He had lived so long being completely unable to speak anything ill of the Malfoys, and now although he was free to do what he wished, the conditioning had yet to wear off. 

"No one will be angry with you, Dobby," Hermione assured him. "No one will know what you told me except for myself. Not even Harry." 

Dobby's eyes widened even more than usual. "Hermione Granger won't even tell Harry Potter what Dobby is saying, ma'am? She won't even tell her best friend?" 

"No, Dobby. It's best if Harry doesn't know." 

Dobby seemed to dislike that prospect even more than the idea of telling Hermione about the Malfoy's connection with Voldemort. 

Hermione pulled the yellow socks from her pocket. "You can have these if you tell me." 

The House Elf grinned greedily as he snatched them from her hand and immediately proceeded to stick them on his ears. "What would Hermione Granger ask Dobby about the Malfoys, ma'am?" 

"Anything you know about the Death Eaters. Maybe how Draco Malfoy feels about them, if you know." 

Dobby looked thoughtful for a few moments before beginning. "Dobby knows that Lucius Malfoy is a follower of You-Know-Who, ma'am, and that if someone is sixteen or older than can apply to become a Death Eater, ma'am." 

"How to they become a Death Eater?" Hermione inquired. 

"Hermione Granger asks Dobby hard questions, ma'am. But Dobby thinks that the person must contact the Dark Lord or another Death Eater, ma'am, and then they will be given a task to do, ma'am." Here Dobby's face scrunched up and he appeared as though he were about to cry. He wrung his hands nervously and Hermione watched as his eyes darted back and forth from the fire at the far end of the room and her face. 

She smiled at the Elf reassuringly. "You can tell me, Dobby. What kind of tasks?" 

It took a moment before Dobby began speaking again, and his tone was slow and uncertain. "It is always different, ma'am," he said, his gaze dashing madly about the room. "Dobby would think, ma'am, that the Dark Lord would pick something that interests him at the time, ma'am. Dobby knows that if the task is completed, ma'am, the person gets the Dark Skull printed on their arm and they become a Death Eater, ma'am." 

The words were barely out of his mouth when Dobby jumped up and bounded across the room to the fireplace. He made a movement to stick his head in. 

"Dobby, _don't!_ You don't have to hurt yourself," Hermione said, rising to a crouch to follow him. "You're not betraying anyone. You don't work for the Malfoys anymore." 

Dobby turned slowly to look at her, his eyes wide. "If they knew what Dobby is telling you, ma'am, they would have his head." 

Hermione smiled at him again. "They won't find out, Dobby. I promise you." 

Dobby looked at her for a few minutes in silence, before finally sitting down. Hermione followed suit, then asked, "What do some of these tasks include?" 

Dobby looked at the floor, muttered something about being free, then raised his head. "Dobby can't tell Hermione Granger for sure, ma'am. Dobby thinks that there would be death or pain, ma'am. Maybe the person must steal valuable information for You-Know-Who, ma'am." His voice was steady, but Hermione could see from the expression in Dobby's large eyes that he was still trying to convince himself that he could tell the Gryffindor girl about the Malfoys lifestyle. 

She frowned then, liking the idea of the initiation less and less. "What about Draco Malfoy?" 

"Dobby heard Lucius Malfoy talking to his Narcissa Malfoy a lot about Death Eaters, ma'am. Lucius Malfoy always planned for his son Draco Malfoy to become a Death Eater, ma'am. Dobby also heard Draco Malfoy tell his mother when he was very small, ma'am, that he didn't want to become a Death Eater because he was afraid of You-Know-Who, ma'am, but Narcissa Malfoy said that Draco Malfoy must to make his father happy, ma'am. So Dobby heard Draco Malfoy ask why he must make his father happy, ma'am, and Narcissa Malfoy said because Lucius Malfoy was a dangerous man, ma'am, and that it was fatal to disobey him when he thought so strongly about something, ma'am." 

"And then...?" 

Dobby didn't answer right away. It appeared that he was losing the battle of convincing himself a free Elf could speak his mind. Before she could stop him, Dobby jumped up, spun around, and stuck his hands into the coals in the fireplace. The howl of pain that followed sent shivers down Hermione's spine. 

"Dobby! Dobby stop!!" she cried, and grabbed the back of his trousers, pulling him back from the flames. 

Dobby looked up at her, his large eyes wet with tears, and Hermione couldn't help but think that they looked like soggy tennis balls. He waved his burned hands in the air in an attempt to cool them. 

"That was unnecessary, Dobby," Hermione told him. "You didn't need to hurt yourself like that." 

Dobby only nodded and wound a blanket around his hands. It was the only blanket in the entire room; Hermione assumed it was his own. 

She gave him a few minutes to recollect himself, then posed her question again. "What happened after you heard Narcissa Malfoy said Lucius was dangerous?" 

To Hermione's relief, Dobby replied right away, but he refused to look up at her. His attention was instead fixated on wrapping the single blanket around both of his burned hands while still giving himself enough distance between each digit to move them independently. "Draco Malfoy asked why there were still Death Eaters when the Dark Lord was gone, ma'am, and Narcissa Malfoy said that Lucius Malfoy and the others were still faithful and believed that the Dark Lord would return one day, ma'am." 

He carried on without Hermione asking, but she could see, even though his head was lowered, that the conversation was upsetting him. She decided she would ask no more questions that morning. "When Draco Malfoy was older, ma'am, Dobby heard him talking to one of his friends, ma'am. He said that he didn't want to become a Death Eater, ma'am, because his father didn't really care about him and that he only wanted Draco Malfoy so that he could take Lucius Malfoy's place in the Death Eater circle when Lucius Malfoy died, ma'am. But Dobby knows that Lucius Malfoy is a powerful and intimidating man, ma'am, Dobby knows very well. He treated Dobby very badly, he did, so Dobby thinks that Draco Malfoy will be pressured into becoming a Death Eater like Lucius Malfoy, ma'am. 

"Dobby thinks that if there is someone there for Draco Malfoy, ma'am, someone who cares about him and is willful enough to go against You-Know-Who, ma'am, Draco Malfoy will resist his father. Dobby knows Draco Malfoy has a girlfriend, ma'am, her name is Pansy Parkinson, but Dobby thinks that Pansy Parkinson is stupid and if Draco Malfoy becomes a Death Eater, she will too, ma'am." 

Dobby raised his head then, and Hermione was surprised to see his expressive green eyes filling with tears once more. It hurt her to think that she was the cause of the small creature's anguish. She suddenly wished that she hadn't made her way to the kitchens that morning and hounded him for answers. Dobby was being forced to call upon painful memories that she was sure would rather be forgotten. Her heart went out to the Elf and she willed herself to remain strong. 

"Dobby thinks... Dobby thinks that--" The House Elf took a deep breath and started again. "Dobby thinks that all Draco Malfoy needs is someone to care about him for him, ma'am, and not for what he can accomplish and become, ma'am." 

Dobby looked at the ground once more, leaving Hermione to stare at the top of his head. Out of everything the House Elf had said, done, and felt, _that_ was perhaps the most painful of it all. Hermione couldn't stop the tear that ran down her cheek.


End file.
